The Wolf Waits Below
by pineapplefan
Summary: There's only so much fight in a guy.
1. Chapter 1

They were late. Twenty minutes late. They said they were coming right home after work.

Darry sighed and drummed his fingers on his armrest. Ponyboy was sprawled out on the couch, his nose buried in a book. He hadn't said anything, but Darry kept catching him glancing at the clock. He was worried too.

After everything that had happened, it was hard not to be worried, even about the smallest things.

"We'll give them ten minutes," Darry told Pony. "And then we'll go lookin'."

Pony bit down on his lip and nodded, glancing one more time at the clock.

Darry picked up his newspaper and started reading the sports section. Something to distract himself while the seconds continued to tick by.

At exactly ten minutes, he and Pony jumped up at the same time, prepared to go on a manhunt for Soda and Steve. They had just finished putting on their shoes when they heard the truck pull up outside the house.

"Oh, thank god," Darry breathed. He opened the screen door and peered out.

Soda was helping Steve out of the truck.

Darry's eyes widened as they came up the drive, Soda's arm wrapped tightly around Steve's waist, helping him walk.

He quickly went to their aid, positioning himself on the other side of Steve, looking the boys over carefully as he helped them in the house.

Aside from a busted lip, Soda appeared to be unscathed.

Steve, on the other hand, looked like he'd been to hell and back. His face was beaten badly, his clothes torn, his head resting on Soda's shoulder. But the most troubling thing about Steve's appearance was the pool of blood seeping through his white T-shirt, just over the right side of his abdomen.

"What the hell happened?" Darry demanded, as he helped ease Steve into the couch.

"Steve's a fuckin' lunatic, that's what happened," Soda answered, his voice shaking. "He tried to break up a fight."

"They pulled a blade," Steve protested weakly. "On a _kid_. Couldn't've been older than Ponyboy."

"They cut him real bad, Dar," Soda said, pulling Steve's shirt over his head so Darry could take a look. "I wanted to take him to the hospital but he begged me to bring him home."

"It's jus' a knick," Steve mumbled. "I don't need a hospital. It looks worse than it is."

"You're bleedin' like a stuck pig, Steve," Darry told him matter-of-factly. "Ponyboy, go grab some towels, huh?"

Pony nodded obediently and disappeared out of the room.

"We have to stop the bleeding first," Darry said. He stepped into the bathroom and washed his hands thoroughly. Then he returned and knelt down by Steve.

"Here," Ponyboy said. He handed Darry three dishtowels from the kitchen.

"Thanks, Pone," Darry said. To Steve he said, "This'll sting, man."

Steve squeezed his eyes closed. He knew it would. They all knew. They'd all needed patching up before. He took a hitched breath, and Darry took it as his cue.

He pressed the towel down onto Steve's wound, holding it firmly in place.

"Gah!" Steve panted at the touch. "Shit."

"It's alright man," Soda said softly, resting a hand on Steve's shoulder for comfort. "It won't hurt so bad in a minute."

While Darry kept a firm hold on the towel, he asked for more specific details of what had happened.

"We were closing up the shop at the DX, when we heard some hollerin' down the street," Soda said.

"Socs?" Ponyboy asked.

Soda nodded. "They were jumpin' a kid younger than you, Pony. Three against one, and they were big. Probably football players. And like Steve said, they pulled a blade." He let out a deep breath. "Before I could stop him, Steve went charging down the street at 'em." Soda looked down at his friend. "What the hell were you thinkin', man? You didn't even wait for me to back you up."

"I just wanted to help the kid," Steve breathed. "You're right, I wasn't thinkin'."

"You haven't been thinkin' a lot lately," Soda said, clearly aggravated. "Not since—"

"Don't say it," Steve interrupted through gritted teeth. "I ain't havin' this argument again." He closed his eyes, his jaw set.

Darry, puzzled, raised an eyebrow and stole a glance at Soda. Pony too, looked confused. Soda just shook his head as if to say _not now._

Darry sighed heavily as he placed another towel on top of the original. Some blood had started to seep through the first. "How're you holdin' up Steve?" he asked, keeping his voice gentle.

"I'm fine," he answered tiredly. "Can we turn on the TV?"

"Sure," Darry told him. "Soda?"

Soda mumbled something under his breath that Darry didn't quite catch. He turned on the TV and switched the dial until he landed on something worth watching: reruns of _Dragnet_. Then he disappeared into the kitchen. Ponyboy followed.

Steve sighed after him.

"What's going on with you two?" Darry wondered out loud.

"Nothing, Darry. Leave it."

Darry nodded and turned his head to look at the TV. But his attention was somewhere else completely.

It had been almost two months since the night Johnny and Dallas died, and none of the gang had quite been the same. Especially Steve.

A lot had happened to him in those two months, and Darry was afraid he was just barely holding it together.

First, Steve caught Evie with another guy, and he ended it. That was just five days after burying Johnny and Dallas, and it about broke him in pieces.

Steve practically shut down after that. Darry could tell by the dark circles under his eyes, the unfocused gaze, the way his voice shook when he spoke. He was dealing with heartbreak on top of grief. A crippling combination. The upside - if you can call it that - was that Soda had been through the same thing with Sandy. He knew what Steve was going through, and he was there for him. Empathetic if nothing else.

But it didn't stop there.

A week later, Steve's dad kicked him out. For good.

Darry still remembers his shock when he pulled open the front to see Steve standing on the doorstep with tears streaming down his face, a single duffel bag in his hands. He remembers how Steve hung his head, asking Darry if he could please stay with them - he didn't know for how long. He remembers Steve collapsing into Soda's arms, and the look of fear in Sodapop's eyes.

Because Steve was Soda's best friend, and he was crumbling fast. Because now Steve wasn't just dealing with heartbreak and grief - he was dealing with abandonment too.

They were all pretty messed up as it was, with Ponyboy getting over being sick, and the trial, not to mention burying two of their closet friends… Steve showing up like that had just been icing on the fucking cake.

"I think the bleeding's stopped," Darry announced to Steve, bringing himself back to the present. "Sit up, man."

Steve obeyed, trying to hide a grimace as he hoisted himself up into the sitting position.

"Why don't you take a shower and clean it up real good?" Darry suggested. "I'll wrap it for you once you're dry."

Steve nodded. "Okay," he said. "Thanks." He stood up unevenly. Darry stood with him.

"You need any help?" he asked unsurely.

Steve shook his head. "I'm fine," he answered through tight lips.

The past few weeks that Steve had lived with them, Darry had tried not to be "parental" with him like he was with Soda and Pony. But sometimes he couldn't help it. Now was one of those times.

"You've got to be more careful, Steve," Darry told him lightly. "I worry about you, you know."

"Yeah, I know you do," Steve said, his voice soft. "But do yourself a favor, and quit gettin' gray hairs over me."

"I don't have any gray hairs," Darry said promptly.

"Yeah, keep telling yourself that, Superman." Steve managed to give Darry a reassuring smile. "Really. I'm okay."

_I__'__m okay_. The broken record mantra Steve had been living by the past several weeks. The mantra none of them bought for a single second.

Because Steve was losing weight, and losing sleep, and Darry was worried that pretty soon he'd lose his sanity too.

Steve might not want to admit it, but he was teetering on the edge.

And they were going to be there if he fell.

**TBC...**


	2. Chapter 2

It was the middle of the night. Three o'clock in the morning, to be exact. Sodapop stood over the kitchen sink, staring mindlessly out the window into the backyard. He held a glass of water in his hand, but he wasn't drinking it.

He was tired. So _damn_ tired.

This had become his routine.

Sometimes he could manage a few hours of sleep before he'd wake up, mind spinning and thoughts racing. He'd lie in bed, desperately trying to fall back asleep, before he gave up entirely. He'd focus on Ponyboy's light snores or chirps from the crickets outside. Anything to keep his mind off his troubles. But somehow, he always ended up here. In the kitchen. Wide awake.

Tonight, he hadn't even slept a wink. How could he?

He was worried. So _damn_ worried.

With a heavy sigh, Soda sunk into a chair, elbows resting on the kitchen table. He ran his hands through his tufts of hair, wondering when in the world he became _this guy_. This guy, who sits up late at night, worrying and thinking and worrying some more.

A year ago he didn't have a care in the world, save for maybe a Soc or two.

But then again, a year ago, his parents hadn't been killed in a car wreck. Darry hadn't been forced to give up his college dreams. Ponyboy hadn't run off to Windrixville. Dallas Winston and little Johnny Cade hadn't died too early. Social services hadn't been breathing down their necks. Sandy hadn't left. Evie hadn't cheated. Old man Randle hadn't snapped. Soda hadn't felt like he was losing his best friend.

It's amazing how much can change in a year.

"Sodapop?"

A voice broke into Soda's inner turmoil and he looked up to find Darry standing at the doorway, arms folded across his chest.

"We have to stop meeting like this," Darry joked lightly, dropping his arms and taking a seat across from his brother at the table. Darry was notorious for not being able to sleep, and it wasn't uncommon that the two of them would cross paths in the middle of the night.

Soda gave him a half-hearted smile. "Tell me about it."

Darry was looking him over from across the table, eyes scanning his face. Soda knew what he was going to say before he said it. "You look exhausted, Soda. You can't keep doing this."

"Look who's talkin'," Soda retorted. "You ain't exactly the poster boy for getting a good night of sleep either, Dar."

Darry chuckled lightly. "Yeah, I know that," he said tiredly, rubbing his eyes with his palms. "But don't you think one insomniac in the family is enough?"

"More than enough."

"So why don't you go back to bed, huh?" Darry asked. "You need your sleep."

"I can't, Darry. I'm wide awake."

Darry sighed. "Listen kid, I know Steve gave you a scare today. But he's okay. He's still in one piece."

Sodapop swallowed hard. "I know… it's just…" He could feel himself starting to get worked up, so he trailed off. He'd told Darry his concerns about Steve before. How Steve seemed to have lost all his sense of self-worth, how he barely said a word anymore, how he hadn't cracked a genuine smile in ages…

"I know you're worried about him, Soda," Darry said softly, reading his mind. "We all are. But you have to remember he's been through a lot. Hell, we all have."

Soda nodded. "I know," he said looking down at the table.

Darry tilted his head at Soda. "You said something to him today, didn't you?" he asked, obviously referring to the little squabble he and Steve had had earlier, while Darry was patching him up.

Soda grimaced. "Yeah, I did."

"What'd you say?"

"I told him that he wasn't himself, and I dunno, that made him really upset." Soda remembered how it had turned into a heated discussion. Soda had even noticed that he'd sounded a lot like Darry, saying things like "you're living in a vacuum" and "you don't just stop living because you lose someone."

"So what happened?" Darry pressed.

Soda shrugged. "We made up. I apologized and told him I was just worried about him."

"And?"

"He told me there was nothing to worry about, same as always," Soda sighed. "But then he went charging down the street at those Socs - playing a goddamn hero like some sort of suicide mission - and screw him if he thinks that ain't gonna worry me."

"Soda, look at me," Darry said gently. He didn't continue until Soda's eyes met his. "Steve might feel like he's lost a lot - and he has - but he still has you, and me, and Two-Bit, and hell, even Ponyboy has his back. He's going to be just fine. I promise."

Soda looked down at the table as he let Darry's words sink in. And he actually allowed himself to believe what he was saying. Steve was going to be okay, because they wouldn't have it any other way.

Soda glanced at his older brother with a slight raise of the head. "Thanks," he told Darry sincerely. Because he always made Soda feel like he wasn't alone.

"Sure," Darry said hoarsely.  
><em><br>_They sat in silence for a long while before Darry spoke again. "Hey Soda, there's something I've been meaning to talk to you about." He shifted uncomfortably in his seat. He was nervous, that much Soda could tell. "I figure now's as good a time as any."

Soda snapped into attention at Darry's demeanor. "Sure," he said, furrowing his brow in his brother's direction. "What?"

Darry let out a deep breath. Whatever he was trying to say certainly wasn't easy. "We have a tough anniversary coming up," he said finally.

Soda tensed. He knew exactly what Darry was talking about. Two days from now would mark the one-year anniversary of their parents' death. "Right," he said softly over the lump in his throat.

Darry cleared his throat gruffly. "Has Pony mentioned it to you at all?" he asked.

Sodapop shook his head. "No," he answered. But he was sure Ponyboy knew it was coming up. They all did. Soda had been dreading that day for almost a month now. "Why?"

"I was thinking we should visit their gravesite," Darry said. He started chewing on his lip in anticipation of his brother's reaction.

Soda swallowed. Darry had offered to take Pony and Soda back to the cemetery several times following the burial of their parents, but each time his brothers had declined. Soda always felt it would be too hard. And so Darry had stopped asking. He hadn't asked in almost six months.

"I don't know, Dar…" Soda said unsurely.

"Just run it by Pony, okay?" Darry said calmly. "I think it'd be good for us. I think it's time."

Soda nodded vaguely. "Okay," he agreed, a yawn escaping his lips before he could stop it.

Darry gazed at him, a knowing twinkle in his eye. "You _are _tired."

"Doesn't mean I'll be able to sleep," Soda returned.

Darry folded his arms across his chest, not hesitating to switch from "brother" to "guardian." "Well, you need to try," he said sternly. He nodded his head at the doorway. "Go back to bed."

Soda was only going back to bed on one condition. "I'll go if you go."

Darry grinned at him. "Deal."

With that, they both lifted their tired bones from the table and headed into their respective rooms.

**TBC...**


End file.
